But What Are You Promising?
by misskaterinab
Summary: This is a series of one-shots based on all the promises Blaine made to Kurt in the deleted box scene. Canon is generally followed but may be putzed with some.
1. To Always Love You

**Note: I messed around with canon a bit for this one.**

* * *

"_But what are you promising?"_

**_"To always love you…"_**

* * *

"Blaine, tell me, are we _really_ okay?" Kurt asked, terrified of the answer he could receive.

Blaine gently brushed Kurt's ever errant strand of hair out of his eyes and softly kissed his neck. Kurt was lying on his side on Blaine's bed curled up into a tight ball with Blaine pressed up closely behind him.

"Yeah, we're okay."

Kurt's sigh of relief was so big, Blaine could physically feel much of the stress leaving Kurt's body.

"Thank God," said Kurt. "I thought your distance lately meant you stopped loving me, and I really couldn't handle that."

"I am so sorry, Kurt. I never meant for you to think that at all. I guess I thought by pushing you away, I could make it hurt less for both of us when you leave Lima, but I was so wrong."

"I'm really sorry about the texts from Chandler, too. I hope you know they meant nothing to me. I asked him not to text me anymore."

"No, honey, I know they didn't. I'm sorry, too. If texts containing the world's worst pickup lines could make you feel good just because someone was paying attention to you, then obviously I've been a terrible boyfriend."

Kurt rolled over on the bed to face Blaine. "Don't say that, Blaine. You're an amazing boyfriend, and if you don't know that, then I'M sorry."

Blaine held up his hand to quiet Kurt. "I want you to always feel wanted. By _me_. It _kills_ me to think that you thought I had stopped loving you. That couldn't be farther from the truth. I will _always_ love you."

"Even when I'm an insensitive asshole and don't realize you're hurting, even when you're trying your damndest to hide it from me?"

"Yes."

"Even when I'm stupid and don't realize when another boy is hitting on me?"

"Of course."

"Even when I won't let you drive my car even though I trust you with my life?"

Blaine scrunched up his nose. "I still don't understand why you won't let ME, of all people, touch it, but yes, even then."

"Even if I throw away your hair gel?" Kurt teased.

"Weeellll…"

"Even if I donate ALL your bowties?"

"Shit, Kurt, I don't know… you know how much I love my bowties," Blaine joked right back.

Kurt fell silent, and Blaine sensed immediately that the mood had changed. He scrambled up into a sitting position at the head of his bed, leaning back against the headboard. Blaine urged Kurt to sit up and lay his head on his shoulder..

"But seriously, Kurt, I love you. No matter what happens, I never plan on stopping. And even if we were to ever move on from each other, which I'm telling you right now I will fight my ass off to prevent, I will still always love you. You never stop loving your first love. I will always honor you and treasure you and be at your side in the good times and the bad, as long as you'll let me."

Kurt grinned. "Those actually kind of sound like wedding vows."

Blaine reached down and grabbed Kurt's hands in his own.

"Some day, I hope they will be."


	2. To Defend You Even If You're Wrong

**__**_But what are you promising?_

**_"To always defend you even if I know you're wrong…"_**

* * *

"What's taking so long?" Kurt whined. "It shouldn't take them more than a few minutes to slice a piece of cheesecake, slap it on a plate, and trot it out to me."

"Kurt, look at it in here. The wait to even get a table looks like it's an hour long. It's date night. You have to expect them to be busy."

Kurt frowned, but suddenly the expression on his face changed. "MISS!" he called, snapping his fingers to catch their waitress's attention. She was two tables away from them, speaking to another diner. "_MISS!_" he called, louder this time, and snapped his fingers even more frantically. He snapped them practically right in her face; he hadn't noticed that she had arrived at their table and was standing right in front of them.

"May I _help_ you, sir?" she said, somewhat snidely.

"I ordered a slice of cheesecake a HALF HOUR ago! What are you people doing in that kitchen that there is no time to put a piece of cheesecake on a plate and bring it to me? It should take you five minutes, TOPS."

"Sir, I'll thank you to remember that I have other customers here, many of which are as demanding as you are, and we are understaffed! I am trying the best I can, but people like you are NOT making it easy for me!" the waitress said, clearly having reached her limit.

Kurt was just about to open his mouth and go off on the server, but wisely, Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's as a signal to stay quiet, and Blaine spoke up instead. "Miss, you are being very rude to my boyfriend, here. Now I can understand a busy restaurant and being short-staffed, but you are in the business to serve the public – if you cannot handle yourself in a professional manner, perhaps it's time to step back and take a few deep breaths before you take it out on another one of your customers."

The waitress centered herself and nodded. "I apologize, sir. I will have that cheesecake out to you in a few minutes, on the house."

"No need, we'll pay for it. Thank you," Blaine said to her as she jogged off to the kitchen.

"Can you believe the NERVE of – "

"Of you?"

"Of me? What?"

"You heard me, Kurt. She was rude, yes, but YOU provoked her! Can you blame her? Now I stood up for you against her attitude, but I shouldn't have had to say anything in the first place if you'd just work on your patience!"

Kurt felt like a small child that had been scolded and sent to stand in the corner. "I – I'm sorry," he said, hanging his head. "I've just really had a bad day and was looking forward to that cheesecake."

"I understand, sweetie, but that's no excuse. You should be apologizing to her, not me."

The waitress then arrived to set an extra large wedge of cheesecake in front of Kurt. "Here you go, sir. I'm sorry for the wait and for the way I spoke to you earlier."

Blaine raised his eyebrow at Kurt. Kurt took a deep breath and said, "Apology accepted. And I apologize, too. I was wrong, and chances are, you wouldn't have been rude to me if I hadn't been rude to you first."

"Apology accepted," the server said with a cautious smile. She slid the bill on the table between Kurt and Blaine and said, "I'll just leave this here, and you can pay me whenever you're ready."

While Kurt devoured his cheesecake (Blaine declined to share it with him; after witnessing Kurt's outburst, he figured Kurt probably needed the whole thing to himself), Blaine paid the bill. He left enough money to cover the cheesecake that she had insisted on comp'ing and a rather generous tip.

Kurt wiped his mouth with a napkin and pulled out his wallet. He opened the folder with the check in it and added another ten dollar bill.

"Kurt, I already left plenty in there," Blaine protested.

"No, it's okay. She deserves it," Kurt insisted.

Blaine smiled. Deep down underneath his tough exterior, his boyfriend really did have a good heart.

* * *

**A/N: Kurt might be slightly OOC here... or he might not. We don't know how cranky canon!Kurt gets when he's cheesecake deprived LOL**


	3. To Surprise You

_But what are you promising?_

**_"To surprise you…"_**

* * *

"Blaine, honey, it's time for Kurt to leave, now. Your grandparents will be here soon."

"Okay, Mrs. Anderson," Kurt said. "I'll just get my things and be out of your hair in a minute."

Mrs. Anderson began to walk away, but she stopped and turned around to face Kurt. "I'm sorry Kurt. It's not that I don't like having you here, but… Blaine's grandparents are a little – "

"Bigoted?" Blaine interjected.

Mrs. Anderson glared at Blaine. "Old-fashioned was the term I was going to use."

Blaine shrugged. "Same difference," he mumbled.

"It's okay, Mrs. Anderson. I get it. I'm used to it."

Blaine looked helplessly at Kurt. "It breaks my heart to hear you say that."

"It is what it is, Blaine."

Mrs. Anderson bustled back into the kitchen to finish the big Christmas Eve meal she was preparing for a dozen of Blaine's extended family members.

"I'm going to miss you tonight," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's hand and weaving his fingers between Kurt's. "I'm always ignored until it's time to trot me out like a trick pony to play the piano for after dinner cocktails and for the family sing-along – and let me tell you, that's torture because I seem to be the freak talented one in my family 'cause none of the rest of them should sing – and then I get a few token gifts that I can always tell were either something the housekeeper was sent out to buy, or it's a handful of cash stuffed in an envelope without even a card. I'm an afterthought. It sucks."

"Honey, you know you're welcome to come hang out with us. We don't really do much other than eat, watch movies, and open our annual Christmas pajamas, but the company is good. No extended relatives to have to impress… or restrain yourself from strangling… "

"I want to, Kurt. I want to so much. But it would rock the boat pretty hard if I was gone."

"I know," Kurt said with a sigh. "We'll just have to hang in there until the day after. We can go scoop up all the after-Christmas bargains. There's a sweater at Macy's that I'm hoping someone got and decided to return, too."

"We'll go check it all out. I promise." Blaine pulled Kurt close to him for one last kiss before Kurt had to go.

"Blaine, you're really not making it easy for me to get out of here," Kurt warned.

"All right all right all right," Blaine conceded, sneaking one last kiss before finally letting Kurt escape his grasp.

Kurt bundled up in his peacoat and threw his messenger bag over his shoulder. "Text me when you get the opportunity, okay?"

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too. Merry Christmas, Blaine."

"Merry Christmas, Kurt."

**xXxXxXx**

Kurt trudged sleepily up the stairs after a cozy evening with his family, eager to snuggle down into his warm bed and sleep in for as long as Finn would let him. Apparently, Finn had not received the memo that he was no longer five years old and insisted on waking the entire family at WTF o'clock in the morning.

He did a greatly abbreviated version of his bedtime routine hoping the gods of clear skin did not shun him for his temporary disloyalty to them and crawled into bed. He was already in brand new pajamas; one of the Hudsons' yearly tradition was new PJs on Christmas Eve, something Carole had insisted upon bringing to her new family. Kurt was fearful of tacky snowman print flannel pajamas, but thankfully for him, Carole took into account that he was a man of taste and found him some non-name brand but still reasonably fashionable silk nightwear that was no hardship for him to wear.

Sleep came easily for him that night; he was very nearly fully asleep when he was startled by the sound of something hitting his window. Thinking he was dreaming, he physically shook the sound from his head and burrowed his head back down into his pillow. It was a louder "thunk" this time, followed by the sound of several softer "plink plink plinks."

Now awake enough to be semi aware of his surroundings, Kurt scanned his room looking for the source of the noise. He nearly screamed when he saw a shadow outside his window, but after a moment, he recognized the shadow when he heard it say, "Fuck, it's cold out here." Kurt knew only one person crazy enough to be outside his window at midnight on Christmas: Blaine.

He ran to the window and threw it open, reaching his hands out to his boyfriend to help him inside. "Blaine Anderson, what in the hell are you doing here?" Kurt demanded as he rubbed Blaine's hands in an attempt to warm them up.

"Surprise?" Blaine, despite being well bundled, shivered violently. "Shit, I thought you'd never go upstairs. I just had to see you."

"You've been here since I was downstairs with my family? Why in the world did you not just ring the doorbell?"

"Because your dad would've made me go home at bedtime. And I don't want to go home – I want to be here for bedtime. If you'll let me?" he finished shyly, hoping Kurt would want the same.

Kurt, however, looked at Blaine as if he was nuts just for asking. "Well, duh. Of course I'll let you. Besides, you need me. Someone else's body heat is the best way for heating up your own body."

"You heat me up all right," Blaine said lewdly.

"Oh hush, you. C'mon. Strip down and get under the covers. I'll have you warmed up in no time."

Despite their close proximity and the fact that they were reasonably alone when you considered the rest of the household was sound asleep, Blaine was content just to cuddle with his boyfriend.

"Mmmm," Kurt hummed contentedly, spooned up behind Blaine with his face buried in Blaine's shoulder. "Best surprise ever. Feel free to do this like, you know, whenever." He shivered when he shifted and came in contact with a patch of Blaine's still cold skin.

"But next time, you should probably wait until it's NOT fifteen degrees out. I just can't rock blue skin."


	4. To Answer Your Phone Call No Matter What

**_Here there be smut._**

* * *

_But what are you promising?_

**_"To always pick up your phone call no matter what I'm doing…"_**

* * *

The drive home from McKinley that day couldn't possibly have taken any longer than it already did. Every single stoplight seemed to conspire against Blaine because he seemed to come upon them just at exactly the right moment where, even if he sped up, he would still be driving through red. He rolled to a stop at what felt like the fiftieth light on his trip home and squirmed in his seat.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon come onnnnnnnnn," he grumbled. "Hurry _up."_

Blaine needed to get home ASAP. He had just spent the most excruciating hour in the auditorium trying NOT to spontaneously orgasm during Kurt's NYADA audition because HELLO, gold pants. Gold pants that showed EVERYTHING. And when Kurt swiveled and shook his hips, there was absolutely nothing left to the imagination. 'Cause Blaine could see it all. And holy hell, it was all he could do not to jump up on that stage and TAKE it all.

The last light between Blaine and his home FINALLY turned green and he peeled away from it like a bat out of hell. He was pretty sure he broke some sort of land speed record barreling down his street and into the garage.

"Fucking _finally,_" he groaned to himself in relief. He grabbed his messenger bag and practically ran to his bedroom. He had always been glad his parents never came home until late at night, but never as much as he was that day. Because he had some business to take care of. And he was pretty sure it was going to be loud.

Blaine entered his bedroom and locked the door behind him; one could never be too careful. After tossing his bag on his desk and peeling off his shoes and pants, he grabbed his laptop. Trent had sent him a link to a video last night with the comment, These guys look eerily like you and Kurt!

Blaine didn't need a video to imagine himself and Kurt having sex, but he sure wasn't going to pass up a chance for a visual. He fluffed up his pillows and leaned up against them, making himself comfortable. His bottle of lube was already on his bedside table, waiting. He palmed himself with one hand over his briefs as he clicked play on the video with the other.

"_Hoooollyyyy shit…"_ Blaine said to himself as he watched the two boys having sex on the screen before him. "They really DO look like us." But even more than the sight of the very attractive boys in front of him was the sounds they were making. Blaine was a very aural person. He was convinced that if he was ever deprived from his senses of sight and touch, the sounds Kurt made when they were intimate would be enough to get him off without any physical stimulation.

Blaine yanked down his underwear and took himself in hand. He watched the video for a few moments, but it wasn't long before he closed his eyes and imagined the REAL Kurt and himself on his bed making love. He could've just turned off the video, but the delicious sounds in the background only enhanced the mental picture.

He grabbed his lube and slicked up both hands. His left hand returned to his cock, stroking slowly but firmly, twisting as it reached the head. After a few moments, his other hand sneaked underneath him and he began to finger himself, sliding one guitar-callused finger in a time until he was writhing on the bed, panting and rapidly reaching the edge.

_Word on the street, you got somethin' to show me, me  
Magical, colorful, Mr. Mystery, ee  
I'm intrigued, for a peek, heard it's fascinating  
Come on baby let me see  
Whatchu hidin' underneath_

"FUCK!" Blaine cried out. Of all the times to change his ringtone for Kurt to a suggestive one, this was NOT the time.

Blaine was torn. On one hand he was panting heavily and quite obviously in the middle of something. There was no WAY Kurt wouldn't suspect something was up. On the other hand, he _did_ promise to always answer Kurt's phone calls no matter what he was doing.

Wiping one lube-covered hand on his shirt ("_Ick_," he muttered to himself), he hit the Answer button.

"Hello?" he said breathlessly.

"… Blaine? Are you okay?"

"I'm… fine… my phone was… upstairs and I… just had to run to… answer it in time…" Blaine worked to get out as he frantically tried to catch his breath.

"You heard the phone ring, ran up the huge flight of stairs in your house, and picked up the phone in two rings?" Kurt said incredulously.

_Crap… I really should've let it ring a little longer._ "Um, yes?"

Kurt didn't believe him for a second, but he decided to let it go. He'd get the real reason out of Blaine later. "So, I'm just checking to make sure we're on for our date tonight. I'm really excited to try that new restaurant you promised you'd take me to."

"Um, yeah, sure. Yeah, we're totally on for tonight!"

"You didn't forget, did you?"

"No, I promise! I've just been…distracted."

"_No shit,_" Kurt said under his breath. Speaking at normal volume again, he continued. "So anyway, I was hoping my white shirt with gray vest and bowtie would be formal enough for – "

Kurt was interrupted by the sound of a very LOUD moan coming from Blaine's computer speakers. In Blaine's hurry to pick up the phone, he neglected to turn off the pornographic video he had been watching.

"Blaine, what was that?"

Blaine was in full-on panic mode. The first thing he did was clicked every possible button on the screen, unable to hit the correct one no matter how hard he tried.

"Um, nothing? I, uh, have a stomach ache?"

"_Oh fuck yeah, fuck me harder, ungh," _ the boy from the video cried as Blaine scrambled to shut the video down. As the boy screamed, "YES! YES!" Blaine finally found the button he was looking for and the speakers went silent.

"Oh my _GOD_, Blaine, were you…?"

"Uh…"

"You totally were! You were jerking off to a dirty video! And without me, too!"

"Kurt, I…" Blaine was about to apologize profusely and grovel for forgiveness, but he was interrupted by the sound of Kurt laughing. He was laughing so hard he was hardly getting air.

Blaine heard him gasping for breath before Kurt finally said, "I'm so sorry to interrupt you, Blaine. I'll, uh, just let you… finish."

"Kurt – "

"But instead of watching videos," Kurt said, dropping his voice down into his lower register, which he knew drove Blaine absolutely wild, "make sure you think of me."

Blaine groaned involuntarily at the sound of Kurt's low voice, but before he could beg Kurt to say naughty things to him in that deep voice, he heard the dial tone in his ear.

"Dammit," he grumbled, tossing his phone down on the bedspread beside him.

Despite his initial mortification that he had been caught, Blaine was still fairly close to coming. His enthusiasm had waned some, but it perked right back up when Kurt urged Blaine to think of him while he brought himself to orgasm.

Not bothering to boot his computer back up, he picked right back up where he left off, thrusting his fingers back inside himself. It took only a few more moments before he came all over his hand and lower stomach. He laid back for quite some time, not giving a damn that his mess was cooling and drying on his skin and making things rather uncomfortable. Once his breathing and heart rate were completely back to normal, he took a peek at his bedside clock. It was already 4:30pm, and Kurt was planning on arriving at Blaine's house at six, so he got up and headed right to his shower.

The doorbell rang at 5:55 just as Blaine was finishing adding gel to his hair. He had compromised with Kurt and cut his gel usage in half, but as a result of that, it took a bit longer to get his hair fully under control. With one last swipe of the comb, he ran down the stairs to the door.

Blaine threw open the door, breathing just a little bit heavier than usual again from running downstairs so quickly.

"Hi," he greeted Kurt.

"Breathless again, I see. Did you go for another round?" Kurt teased.

Blaine flushed with embarrassment.

"Seriously, why did you even bother answering? You could've just called me back."

"I promised you I'd answer your call no matter what I was doing. So I did," Blaine said with a shrug.

"Awww," Kurt said. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Blaine. "You know, you COULD have just waited until tonight. You know I would've helped you out."

"No I couldn't. Hell, I barely made it home! Do you know how devastatingly sexy you are, Kurt? And those PANTS. Fuck. If I hadn't taken the edge off when I got home, I would've jumped you as soon as you came in the door."

Kurt smirked at him. "I wouldn't have minded."

Blaine considered Kurt carefully. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking that new restaurant is probably highly overrated and we should just stay home."

"You read my mind," Blaine said in relief as he hauled Kurt in the door and up the stairs to see what he could do to make _Kurt_ breathless.


	5. To Bake You Cookies Twice a Year

**__**_But what are you promising?_

**_"To bake you cookies at least twice a year…"_**

* * *

Blaine stood in the kitchen, flipping through his mother's cookie recipe book, looking for a recipe to just jump out at him and say, This is what you should make for Kurt. But there was something wrong with this recipe book – everything in here was far too fancy. Lemon zest, blood orange juice, cream of tartar (the only things called tartar that he knew about were the tartar sauce he dipped his fish into and the tartar his dentist scraped off his teeth, and neither of those were appetizing cookie ingredients)… this book was chock full of things he never heard of, and frankly, didn't want to.

Kurt may have appeared to be fancy on the outside with all this designer clothes and antique jewelry and accessories galore, but he really did prefer his food simple. Blaine was quite certain that Kurt wouldn't really like most of the recipes in the cookbook, so he slammed it shut and began wandering the kitchen, looking for inspiration.

M&Ms? No, Kurt liked the peanut ones best. Raisins? He thought he remembered Kurt saying something about raisins looking like rabbit turds, so again, no. Oooh, how about Snickerdoodles? Oh, wait, no – that wouldn't work. Kurt was allergic to cinnamon.

Finally, Blaine came across a bag of chocolate chips, complete with recipe on the back. "Score!" he said out loud. He set about pulling out all the ingredients to make sure he had everything available. Luckily his mother had a "baking cabinet" which had most of the dry goods in the same spot.

_Flour? Check. Baking soda? Um, orange box, orange box, yep, there it is. Check. Salt? Why is there salt? Cookies are sweet. Well, they're the experts, I guess. Check. Oleo? What the fuck is OLEO? _Blaine pulled out his phone and googled it. Oleo: a vegetable oil spread. Also known as margarine._ Oh, MARGARINE, I know what that is. But Kurt always says he prefers natural ingredients whenever possible. I wonder if I can substitute butter for the margarine? _A quick check of Google said yes, in most cases the two could be used interchangeably._ Awesome!_

He compiled the rest of the ingredients including the sugar (_This brown sugar is as hard as a rock – I wonder if I can still use it?), _eggs (_Hmm, all we have is Egg Beaters. Well, Kurt will appreciate the lower fat and cholesterol, right?), _and chocolate chips, deciding to skip the nuts because a) they didn't have any, and b) Kurt wasn't really a fan of nuts in cookies anyway.

Blaine got out a large bowl and read the first instruction. "Mix two cups of sifted flour… sifted flour? Oh, that's when you break up the clumps… This flour looks pretty unclumpy to me. I think I can skip that." He scooped out two cups of flour and dumped them in the bowl. After looking at the instructions again, he added in the salt and stirred it into the flour. "Put the sugars and wet ingredients in another bowl and beat until fluffy. Beat? Oh yeah, that means use the mixer." He dragged out the hand mixer and set it to the side. After unceremoniously dumping the hastily measured ingredients in the bowl, he plugged the hand mixer into the wall, turned it on high (because beating sounded like high speed, didn't it?) and plunged it into the bowl.

_DISASTER._

"Oh shit shit shit shit shit!" Blaine chanted, frantically pulling the plug of the hand mixer out of the outlet. As one would expect, the moment the spinning beaters met the ingredients, goop flew out of the bowl and onto the countertops, walls, floor, and even Blaine himself. He looked at the mess all over the kitchen and then back in the bowl. "It looks like most of the stuff is still in the bowl. I think a little just went a long way." Vowing to clean up afterward, he plugged the mixer back into the wall and tried again, reducing the speed to low and putting the beaters in the bowl first BEFORE turning it back on.

"Okay, this looks pretty good. Now what?" Blaine said to himself. After consulting with the recipe, he found it was now time to incorporate the dry ingredients into the wet ones a little at a time. After doing so carefully (he had enough of a mess to deal with later without adding to it), he noted that the mixture was a little on the dry side, but he figured that way it wouldn't stick so bad to his fingers when he scooped out the dough onto the cookie sheet.

Last was the chocolate chips. "Whole bag? Excellent," he said, dumping the whole thing into the bowl. The mixture was a little too dense now for the hand mixer to handle without the tiny engine churning hard, so Blaine opted to get his hands down into the bowl and knead the chips in. It felt like edible Play-doh in his hands. He was having fun, but he decided if he was ever to get any of these cookies baked, he had to stop putzing around and get going with them.

He set the oven to preheat at 350 degrees and consulted the recipe for instructions on putting the cookies on the sheets. "Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto the sheet about two inches apart." He took out a spoon and started scooping up gobs of cookie dough, placing them haphazardly on the cookie sheet. "Two inches apart? I'm only going to be able to fit, like, three on the cookie sheet at this rate." He filled the cookie sheet with about eighteen oddly shaped blobs and slid them into the oven, setting the timer for ten minutes.

When the timer rang, he was all set to see a tray of golden brown and delicious looking cookies waiting for him, but... well, he didn't know quite what it was that he found when he opened the oven, but it wasn't what he thought he'd see. The cookies had spread – in fact, some of them were threatening to spread right off the side of the cookie sheet – but they hadn't risen. They were very flat and dense and just did not look appetizing at all. "They look like chunky piles of barf," he said dejectedly.

Blaine looked over the recipe again, hoping to determine what he possibly did wrong. Everything looked right to him, but as he leaned back against the cabinets to decide what his next step should be, he noticed a small orange box sitting on the countertop rather far away from the rest of the ingredients he hadn't yet put away.

"The baking soda! Shit." He didn't quite know what the baking soda's role in the recipe was, but judging by the end result, he had a pretty good idea what it might be. He contemplated adding the baking soda into the remaining dough for a few minutes before deciding that it probably wouldn't work – he had no way of knowing what percentage of the dough had already been used so he could adjust the amount, and he didn't think he'd be able to mix it in evenly anyway.

Sighing, he grabbed the bowl and a scraper and scooped the remaining cookie batter into the trash. _Cookies 1, Blaine 0._

Carefully, he began putting together another batch, making sure to follow the recipe to the letter. When he was satisfied that all the ingredients were present and properly mixed together, he again began filling the cookie sheet, forgoing his previous attempts to make it go faster and painstakingly measuring out balls of cookie dough.

"Martha Stewart, eat your heart out," he said with pride as he put the cookies in the oven for attempt number two. He turned on his iPod and put on his dance playlist. He began bopping around the kitchen, singing at the top of his lungs, jumping on and off the chairs, and doing some epic sock figure skating moves on the slippery tile floor.

"Hi sweetie!" Kurt called into the kitchen, startling Blaine. "I tried ringing the doorbell a bunch of times but got no answer. I knew you were home, though, so I used the key to let myself in. Hey, do I smell something burning?"

"Burning? Oh SHIT!" Blaine scrambled for the oven mitts and threw open the oven door. A puff of smoke blew out of the oven in his face, and he coughed as he pulled out a tray of charred hockey pucks. "Dammit," he whined.

Kurt ran around the kitchen opening windows to improve the air circulation so that they could clear the smoke out of the room. "Oh honey, what happened?" he asked.

"I think I forgot to set the timer and I lost track of time," he said with a pout. "I'm not doing so good here. I tried to make you cookies, but I forgot the baking soda in the first batch, and I burned the second batch. I don't want to break my promise, but I don't think I'm meant to make you cookies." Blaine looked so sad that Kurt immediately drew him into a hug.

Kurt scanned the kitchen and his eyes settled on the bowl of cookie dough. "Well look, that was your first sheet from the second batch, right?" Blaine nodded. "Here. Let me load up another tray, and this time we'll set the timer. I bet you they'll be just fine, okay?"

Together they filled another cookie sheet and set it in the oven. Kurt made a big show of setting the timer, and Blaine ever so maturely stuck out his tongue at him. They sang along to Blaine's iPod for the ten minutes before the timer was set to go off.

When it was time, Kurt pulled a perfect batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. "They look delicious, sweetie, thank you." He kissed the tip of Blaine's nose, and Blaine's face lit up with a big smile. They were only able to wait a few minutes before digging into the hot, gooey treats.

Kurt moaned as he took a bite. "Mmm, babe, they are to die for. You did a great job. But I'll let you in on a little secret." He leaned in closer to Blaine and whispered in his ear, "Store bought cookie dough."

"But that's cheating!"

"You never figured it out, did you?" Kurt said with a grin.

Blaine's jaw dropped in shock. "But I thought you made mine from scratch!" he protested.

"I am Kurt Hummel. I am fabulous at many things. EXCEPT making cookies."

"Wow, I would've never pegged you as someone who couldn't make cookies." Blaine sighed dramatically. "I feel like everything I've ever known was a lie."

Kurt chuckled. "Why do you think I made YOU promise to make them for me?"


	6. To Kiss You Wherever and Whenever

**A/N: Here there be more smut.**_  
_

_But what are you promising?_

**_"To kiss you wherever and whenever you want…"_**

* * *

Blaine trotted down the main hallway; he had had trouble locating his history textbook in his locker and was running a little late. It would take some luck to arrive to his class on time. As he passed Mr. Schuester's Spanish classroom, a hand reached out and grabbed the strap of Blaine's messenger bag, dragging him backwards into the darkened room.

"What the – Kurt?"

"Mmm, hi," Kurt said, wrapping his arms around Blaine, pulling him farther into the room and closing the door behind them.

"Kurt, what are we doing here?" Blaine demanded. "I'm going to be late for class."

The bell rang shrilly, signaling the start of fifth period.

"Correction. You ARE late for class," Kurt said.

Blaine heard the click of the lock on the classroom door. "Mr. Schue has fifth period off, and he ALWAYS spends it in the guidance office with Miss Pillsbury. He'll be gone the entire hour."

"But what – "

"What we're doing here is keeping a promise you made to me," Kurt said, pushing Blaine down on top of a table near the center of the room, just out of sight of the window in the door.

"Promise?" Blaine asked, his voice a little strained.

"You promised to kiss me wherever and whenever I want," Kurt explained. "The wherever… well, the wherever isn't here, but it's the best I can do on school grounds. And the whenever is right now." Kurt pushed Blaine all the way back so he was lying down on the entire length of the table. Kurt climbed up so he was carefully straddling Blaine's body and he leaned down to capture Blaine's lips in a long, wet, kind of dirty kiss.

"Mmmph," Blaine mumbled and then pushed Kurt away. "Wait!"

"What?" Kurt said with great concern in his voice.

"I'm supposed to kiss _you_," Blaine said. "So let me ask you this – where do you want me to kiss you?"

"Um, like I said, in here's good."

"No no, not _where,_" he said, gesturing around the room to indicate their physical location. "Where. Like, here?" Blaine kissed Kurt's cheek. "Or maybe here?" He ran his lips down the side of Kurt's neck. "Perhaps here?" Kurt groaned as Blaine mouthed his Adam's apple. "Or maybe even here?" Blaine dropped to his knees in front of Kurt and placed a firm kiss on the front of Kurt's pants where he was rapidly becoming harder.

"Oh _fuck_, Blaine!" Kurt moaned.

"No, no fucking. I thought we were just kissing here." Blaine slid a hand between the waistband of Kurt's pants and the soft skin underneath. "Or I could kiss you… _under_ _here…"_

"Blaine, _please!_"

"Uh uh uh… in order for me to kiss you wherever you want, you have to tell me exactly where that wherever is."

"_You fucking tease,_" Kurt grumbled. "Blaine… I want you to kiss my cock."

Blaine mimicked his kiss from before, kissing over the fabric.

"Dammit Blaine, underneath! I want you to kiss my bare cock!"

"Aha, now see how much better that is? We're communicating now. I like that," Blaine said. He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that he needed to speed things up a little if they didn't want to be caught. He expertly unzipped Kurt's pants and tugged his them down, exposing Kurt's gloriously hard and ready cock. Blaine smiled; the sight of Kurt desperate for him never got old.

Blaine grasped Kurt lightly and began planting soft kisses all along the shaft. Kurt's breathing grew erratic as Blaine teased him.

"Blaine, suck me," he gasped out.

"Kurt, sucking isn't really kissing," Blaine pointed out.

"Ugh, Blaine, FUCK kissing. Just do it!"

Blaine made no moves to do as Kurt demanded. Just as Kurt was about to protest again, Blaine took Kurt all the way into his mouth in one swift move.

"FUCK!" Kurt cried out. Blaine reached up and covered Kurt's mouth with one hand. He would've scolded him, but his mouth was busy doing much more important things.

Kurt pulled Blaine's hand off his mouth. "Okay, okay, quiet. I got it. Shit, I'm not going to last long. That feels incredible, Blaine!"

Blaine quickly worked Kurt's cock over, tonguing the underside of it and being very generous with the suction. There wasn't much time before the next class period – he had to make this fast. One especially hard suck had Kurt crying out his name and spilling into his mouth. As Kurt came down from his high, Blaine took the opportunity to pull himself out of his pants and provide the minimal friction needed to bring himself to an embarrassingly fast climax himself.

"Hurry up and get dressed, Kurt," Blaine said, still a little winded. "Passing time's in five minutes."

They grabbed a bunch of tissues out of the box on the teacher's desk to clean themselves with, and within minutes, they found themselves sneaking out of the classroom. As they pulled the door shut, they were startled by a voice saying, "Woo hoo Hummel got some! You go, boy!"

Both boys flushed red down to practically their underwear as Kurt tried to shush Puck.

"How much did you hear?" Kurt hissed.

"Only all of it. I came here to try to score with the new cheerleader, but as I was about to open the door, I hear the words 'I want you to kiss my cock.' Far be it from the Puckasaurus to be a cockblock, so I dismissed my honey and parked myself in front of the door to keep anyone from interrupting your epic man love session."

"Shit," Blaine and Kurt said in unison.

Puck opened the door. "Damn, boys, it smells like sex in here. You guys have GOT to open windows after you're done so you don't get caught. Remind me to give you all of Puckzilla's tips for getting it on at school without getting kicked out."

Never had the two boys EVER been so glad to hear a bell ring, but ring it did, and they were off to their lockers to get their books for their last classes off the day.

"Never again in school," Blaine declared. "I don't care if I promised wherever… just NOT in school."

"Not IN school, no" Kurt agreed. "But I've got a nice, roomy SUV here AT school…"

The boys looked at each other, tossed their books back in their locker, and practically ran towards the parking lot.


	7. You're Perfectly Imperfect

_But what are you promising?_

**_"But mostly, to make sure you remember how perfectly imperfect you are…"_**

* * *

In a tiny one bedroom apartment in New York, a harried Kurt sat at a sewing machine table under a goose-necked lamp with a far too bright bulb in it, frantically sewing on an impeccably tailored garment. It was part of his final project, _the_ project required for graduation, and Kurt was driving himself, and everyone around him, absolutely insane.

Blaine stumbled sleepily out of their bedroom, rubbing his disheveled mass of curly hair and yawning. "Kurt, honey, it's 3am. You need to come to bed or you'll never make it through your day tomorrow." He walked up behind Kurt, noting the tension in his shoulders; he could practically SEE the knots in them.

Blaine set his hands on Kurt's shoulders, intending to work on massaging some of the stress from Kurt's muscles, but Kurt squirmed and shrugged him away. Blaine's backrubs were magical and never failed to put him to sleep. He couldn't afford to be distracted. This project was the culmination of four years of blood, sweat, and tears, and he would get this damn jacket perfect if it KILLED him. His dad could accept his degree for him posthumously if he had to…

"Kurt, it looks incredible, really. You're going to blow your professor away."

"It looks AWFUL, Blaine. I'm going to fail this class, and then I'm going to flunk out of school, and then I'm going to have to live in a refrigerator carton on the street 'cause I can't support myself, let alone us, and..."

Blaine placed a single finger on Kurt's lips. "Shh. Do you trust me?"

Kurt looked at Blaine silently for a moment and then nodded. "I always have."

"Then trust me when I say, it looks perfect. Please, honey, come to bed."

"I just want to quick redo this seam – there's one stitch that's off. Then I'll come to bed. I promise."

"Okay, baby. But don't take too long, okay? The bed's too cold and lonely without you." Blaine kissed Kurt on the forehead and retreated into their bedroom.

Blaine was just getting comfortable underneath the covers when he heard a scream come from the living room. He threw off the blanket and vaulted out of bed, running to the living room as fast as he could. "KURT! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do I need to call 911?"

Tears were streaming down Kurt's face. "I – I ruined it, Blaine. My hand slipped when I was using the seam ripper and I tore a huge hole in the front!" Kurt buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

"I'm sure it's not that bad, sweetheart. Let me see – oh…" he said as he saw the damage that was done. Blaine wasn't quite sure how ripping out a small seam with a seam ripper could cause such damage, but there it was. He spread the jacket out on the table so he could see the whole thing at once. Suddenly, he got an idea.

"Contrast."

"What?" Kurt looked up at him tearily.

"Thread up a needle with a contrasting color and then sew up the hole."

Kurt contemplated Blaine's idea. "Well, it can't be any worse. You might have something there. Would you hand me that green thread over there?"

It took Kurt another ten minutes, but he had very carefully, with nearly machine-perfect hand stitches, sewn up the gash in the fabric.

"Wow…" they both said.

"It looks REALLY good!" Kurt said, astonished. "As in, I think this was what it needed! But how… how did you know?"

"Sometimes perfection needs an imperfection to be more perfect."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine, that is the silliest thing I – "

"No no, hear me out. That jacket has an imperfection, and somehow the imperfection made it just right. Every once in awhile you'll hear a song recording with a voice crack or a breath in an inappropriate spot, yet it adds character to the song and makes it better. A misprinted stamp or dollar bill is often worth far more than its face value because of its imperfection. Perfectly imperfect, you might say.

"Just like you, baby. Those scars on your back from the locker shoves? I don't think my Kurt would've been so tough without them. That little piece of hair that insists on defying your hairspray? It may drive you nuts because it's ruining your idea of perfection, but it _completes_ my idea of perfection. That little squeak you make when we're making love that embarrasses you so much? Well, it turns ME on so much that when I come I see stars. And your drive to get the hell out of Lima? I know it looked like, to others, that you were just running away and avoiding anything that was bad in your life, and I know I took it badly at first, like you were leaving me, but damn, look at you now, Kurt. You're in New York, you're at the top of your class, and WE are here TOGETHER. You did that, Kurt. You made it happen. You are so perfectly imperfect, Kurt, and I'll always be here to remind you of that." Blaine looked directly into Kurt's now glassy eyes and grinned. _"Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel, like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me…"_ he sang.

Kurt slapped Blaine playfully on the shoulder. "You are such a cheeseball. But… thank you. I think I really needed to hear that."

Kurt gave his jacket one more once-over, taking what Blaine considered far too long to do it. He gently removed it from Kurt's hands, hung it on the wooden hanger Kurt had reserved for it, and covered it with the plastic dry-cleaner bag to protect it.

"There. Now, come on. Let's get you to bed, baby."

"Okay, but on one condition," Kurt allowed.

"What's that?"

"I know it's late, but I'd really like you to show me how perfectly imperfect that little squeak I make is."

* * *

**A/N: And that's it. I had a hard time with a few of these, but I hope I managed to make you smile with at least one of their promises. Long live the box scene!**


End file.
